


BTS - Suga looks up Jeong-sun in the phone book

by Insfiringyou



Series: BTS Complete Masterlist [151]
Category: K-pop, bts, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23400049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insfiringyou/pseuds/Insfiringyou
Summary: A prequel!This fic takes place after the events of 7 minutes in heaven and between First date, where Yoongi searches for Jeong-sun in the phone book. To fully understand this fic we recommend that you read both beforehand.To read all of Suga's headcanon fics in order, go here: https://insfiringyou.tumblr.com/post/185247087886/bts-sugas-headcanon-universe-fics
Relationships: Min Yoongi | Suga/Original Female Character(s)
Series: BTS Complete Masterlist [151]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1237385
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	BTS - Suga looks up Jeong-sun in the phone book

The phone call had been brief, lasting only ten minutes before they wished each other well and promised to meet up soon. Yoongi sighed as he drew the phone away from his ear, his older brother’s voice disappearing from the other end of the dead line. He had gathered that the construction work to Geum-Jae’s café had reached some speed bumps, the short and slightly sharp edge in his voice an indicator that things were not going as smoothly as he had envisioned. Reassuringly, Yoongi had reminded him that these things rarely went as planned and that a solution would be inevitable. It had been almost six months since they had last spoken, and whilst he had wanted to talk, the call had come partly from a place of boredom and restlessness.

Steam spiralled from the mug between his fingers, and he blew the surface before taking a sip, eyeing the open newspaper on his desk. He smoothed the page, crumpled and torn by the rain in the short walk from the newsagents to his studio that morning. A small advert had caught his attention; a Union Jack unceremoniously crammed between that of a stand-up comedy show and another which appeared to be for the opening of a jazz club taking place that weekend. Whilst he had not heard of the band, he had deduced that the group had travelled to Korea from the UK and would be performing tomorrow night. He was reminded automatically of the woman he had met a few days before, a plastic red cup clutched against the petals of her New Order band tee. 

It was obvious to Yoongi now that she had no more wanted to participate in the party game than he had, and were he to have reacted differently, they probably would have laughed about the ridiculousness of the situation together. Instead, the conversation in the closet had been tense, her demeanour guarded and wary. His frustration at Jimin hadn’t entirely disappeared; but he no longer felt that he could blame him for how he had behaved when the bottle had landed on her. Jeong-Sun had accepted his feeble apology as they spoke at the kitchen counter later in the evening, but they undoubtedly had gotten off on the wrong foot, and he couldn’t help but wonder how differently things might have turned out. 

His stomach turned over nervously as he slid open the bottom drawer of his desk. He nudged aside a glass frame, stacks of old receipts and warranties for equipment he had since upgraded. A few years out of date, he was not even sure whether she would be listed in this telephone edirectory. Perhaps she hadn’t set up a landline when the book was in print. It occurred to him that she may not have even lived in Seoul at the time- she had mentioned that she had been to university, and he had not asked where. 

But even if she wasn’t listed, that was okay, Yoongi thought. She probably was not waiting on his call. 

***

The line was quiet for a moment as the ringing stopped, a muffled breath the only indicator that someone was on the other end. Cautiously, he spoke first.

“Hello? Is this Kwon Jeong-Sun?”

“Hyun-Jae? Is that you?”The voice that met him was surprisingly hopeful, softer than he had anticipated. His chest sank as he realised that, unless she had aged fifty years overnight, this was not the person he had been hoping would answer. 

“No, it’s Yoongi.” He replied slowly. “I think I’ve got the wrong number.”

“You’ll have to speak up, dear. My hearing aid is playing up again….” There was a high-pitched electronic squeal as the lady adjusted the device, and he waited patiently for a second until the interference subsided.

“It’s Yoongi.” He repeated, a little more loudly this time.

“Who are you looking for?”

“Sorry. I’m using the phone book. I’m looking for a girl called Jeong-Sun.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

He could hear the grin in her voice, finding his face grow a little hot at the suggestion. “I met her a few days ago at a social event.”

“Didn’t she give you her mobile number?”

“She said it was in the phone book.” 

“Did you try Seodaemun-gu?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi responded, beginning to feel the pointlessness of the search. He had half-expected her to hang up already, or to wish him well as the others had. Perhaps she appreciated the company just as much as he did. “No one answered.”

“It doesn’t sound like she wants to talk to you that much.” The woman, also named Kwon Jeong-Sun, said soberly. 

He paused for a moment. It’d surprisingly stung to hear this said aloud, though probably true, he thought. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Well, you’re certainly going to a lot of trouble to find her. You sound like a nice young man. If things don’t work out between you I have a single granddaughter.” 

Yoongi laughed softly, lips turning into a gummy smile that she could not see. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What about Eunpyeong-gu?” She suggested after a moment. 

“Not yet. Thanks for your help.”

“Good luck.”

Yoongi kept the phone to his ear, waiting for the flatline as the handheld was placed haphazardly back onto the receiver. He slid his tongue idly over his bottom lip, regarding the directory unenthusiastically as he scratched out the name of the other Jeong-sun with a biro. The coffee he had been drinking had turned lukewarm, the surface unappealing as a film of limescale glistened under the surface of the desk lamp. He swilled the liquid around the edge of the ceramic, watching it cling to the sides, and thought vaguely about descaling his coffee machine if only to pass the time. But he had no sooner stood up, mug in hand, before sinking back down into the swivel chair and unlocking his Samsung. Eunpyeong-gu would be the last district, he decided. He was slightly relieved to see that there was only one name listed, thinking of the almost empty bottle of whisky he’d been meaning to finish off. 

The ringing seemed to drone on forever. Just about to hang up, he was surprised when the monotony was broken with a loud beep and a voice suddenly spoke. 

“Hello this is Jeong-Sun. I can’t get to the phone at the minute. If you’d like to call me on my mobile my number is…”

Yoongi froze, his heart rate peaking as he listened to the rest of the message telling the caller that she would get back to them when she could. She had sounded bored, as though having recorded the voicemail several times already. Her tone was dry and without inflection, clearly uninterested in anything other than directing the caller to her mobile number. He was sure that this was the right Jeong-sun, and for a while he sat perfectly still, hardly believing his luck. 

Strangely jittery, he waited for a few minutes to go by before trying to call the landline once again. He had not heard the mobile number properly the first time, and regardless, he felt suddenly nervous knowing that she would be on the other end. But there had been something in her small smile as he waved her goodbye in the doorway that made him want to try, to believe that she would be glad to hear his voice too.

After only a few rings, the phone disconnected and her automated message sounded again. Yoongi frowned. Jeong-Sun was home, but clearly not answering. He scribbled down her number on the yellow pages in front of him as she recited it dully and sent a text without thinking.

“Aren’t you going to pick up?” 

“Who’s this?” 

Of course she didn’t know who it was, why should she have answered? He took a deep breath, composing himself. 

“Yoongi. From the closet.”

There was a persistent thumping in his ears as he waited for a response, wondering whether she would. Time seemed to stretch, until a soulful piano melody chimed out, an unknown number shining out from the display. Slowly, he slid his forefinger across the screen and pressed it against his ear, heart accelerating as her voice filled his ears. 

“Sorry I thought you were a cold caller.”

***


End file.
